


peel the scars from off my back

by Mertiya



Series: Sylvix oneshots (with bonus Claude) [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Claude is also MVP, Claude is self-sacrificing, Felix is a dumb butt but we love him anyway, Fix-It, Golden Deer Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Golden Deer Sylvain Jose Gautier, Homecoming, Kidnapping for a good cause, M/M, Spoilers for Felix and Sylvain's paired ending after GD but not much else, Sylvain still has no self-esteem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 13:03:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21302528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertiya/pseuds/Mertiya
Summary: After the final battle, Felix leaves.  After all, with Dimitri dead, what's left for him?  Claude decides this is Not Going To Fly.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Sylvain Jose Gautier/Claude von Riegan (unrequited)
Series: Sylvix oneshots (with bonus Claude) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535714
Comments: 10
Kudos: 116





	peel the scars from off my back

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Welcome Home, Son" by Radical Face.

“Why are you sleeping in a ditch?”

Felix wakes with a start and an oath. Green eyes are looking down at him, slightly judgmental. His head swims, and he doesn’t know if it’s alcohol or the stomach-dropping sensation of someone somewhere they aren’t remotely supposed to be. Because that’s definitely Claude, regarding him with a raised eyebrow and what Felix suspects is a large heaping of judgment, but they’re not at school. They’re not even at Garreg Mach. They’re about as far away as Felix was capable of getting. And he’s pretty sure he had too much to drink last night, so maybe he’s just hallucinating.

“Okay, come on, I’d rather not throw you over my wyvern to get you back, but I will if I have to.”

“What,” Felix says. It’s not really a question. Or maybe it is a question, and it just has so many questions in it that they would probably break a single question mark under the burden.

“Get up,” Claude says. He doesn’t look happy.

Felix puts a hand on his head, the throbbing remnants of a hangover making it difficult to think. “What are you doing here?” he finally manages, assembling a more informative question this time.

“_Get up_.” Claude’s hand on his elbow. Felix tries to jerk away, but Claude is stronger than he looks, and he doesn’t manage it. “That’s it,” Claude says instead, sounding cheerful, maybe manic, and the next second Felix is spluttering freezing cold water out of his eyes and mouth.

“What the _hell_?” he demands and reaches for his sword, only to remember it’s not there.

“Shame you sent your weapon away, isn’t it?” Claude asks. He does not sound sympathetic. “You get one more chance to get up and come with me willingly. Otherwise I am throwing you over the back of my wyvern.”

Felix squints at him in the too-bright dawn light. “Where?” he asks helplessly. “What are you doing here?”

Claude’s other hand lands on his neck, and he’s being hoisted to his feet. “That was your last shot,” he says, and if Felix weren’t still woozy, he’d have punched Claude in the jaw by now, but instead, he finds himself being lifted up like a sack of grain and deposited—as Claude promised—on the glittering white scaly back of his wyvern.

“What the fuck!” he yelps, and then he yelps again as the ground starts to fall away.

“You probably shouldn’t try getting away,” Claude tells him. “It’s a long way to fall, and I only have half a mind to catch you.”

Felix stares down at wyvern scales, taking a deep breath, trying to contain the murderous rage. “What the fuck are you doing,” he snarls eventually, staring at the tips of pine trees poking up through the clouds far below.

“I am taking you home,” Claude snarls right back. “I’m not going to let you be responsible for Sylvain killing himself.”

That sends an unpleasant shock through Felix, but he sets his teeth against it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that during the last border skirmish, I caught him rushing ten enemies by himself,” Claude says. “And he would have been a literal _shishkebab_ if I hadn’t intervened.”

The image that conjures—is unpleasant. Felix stares down at his hands, clutching at the wyvern’s scaly hide. They’re shaking. His stomach is turning over. He remembers Dimitri—he remembers the blood. Blood on the blond head, blood on the blue surcoat, Dimitri screaming. The thought of the same thing happening to Sylvain is unpleasant. Unpleasant. “Why?” Felix asks.

Claude sighs. “You are an idiot,” he says. “Because he’s madly in love with you. And you left.”

Felix’s heart thuds in his chest. “You’re wrong,” he says mulishly, after a moment. The wind stings his face, bringing tears to his eyes. “Sylvain doesn’t think of me that way.”

“Oh yes he does,” Claude snarls. “And I’m not going to let him kill himself over it.”

The rest of the journey is made in silence, as Felix tries to get his head around the idea. Why would Sylvain be in love with _him_? He’s seen him flirt with women, over and over again. He’s clenched down on the twist in his stomach, telling himself he doesn’t have a right to be jealous. They’ve saved each other’s lives so many times, but something inside Felix broke when Dimitri died. It wouldn’t be right to inflict that on Sylvain. On anyone. That’s why he sent the sword.

Hours later, with the sun high in the sky, Claude reins in his wyvern and they land with a jolt. He dumps Felix unceremoniously to the ground and says, “If you hurt him again, I’ll put an arrow through your heart. Understand?”

Felix nods jerkily, not saying that if it’s really true, if he’s really hurt Sylvain this badly, he’ll put a knife through his own heart before Claude has the chance. He turns and looks at Claude. “Why?” he asks.

“Do you _really_ need to ask that?” Claude says silkily.

“No, I mean, why are you…” In lieu of words, Felix opens his hand in a confused gesture.

Claude’s face softens for an instant. “You think you’re the only one in love with Sylvain?” he asks, but before Felix can say anything else, he’s taking off again, a flurry of white wings beating up whirling currents of leaves. Felix stands and watches him for a moment, then turns back to the encampment where Sylvain presumably waits.

What Claude didn’t say was that despite the fact he rescued Sylvain, apparently Felix’s best friend still managed to take some nasty injuries, because when he ducks out of the tent in answer to Felix’s nervous summons, one arm is in held up in a white sling dotted with red. Felix takes a breath at the sight, his hands flexing. He wants to kill the man who hurt Sylvain.

Sylvain blinks at him stupidly. “Felix?” he says slowly. “You sent me your sword—I thought you weren’t coming back.”

Felix takes a halting step towards him. “Are you really madly in love with me?” he blurts.

He expects an evasive response—at best, hooded eyes and one of Sylvain’s flirtatious nothings. What he gets instead is a stuttering half-breath and a bowed head as Sylvain says, simply, “Yes.”

“Oh,” says Felix. He takes another step. They’re close now. He could reach out and touch Sylvain if he wanted. He does want, but something keeps his hand from rising. “I am too.”

This time he does get a smile, but it’s still watery, a shadowy of Sylvain’s former grin. “Madly in love with yourself?”

“In love with you.”

The light glistens on Sylvain’s eyes, wet with unshed tears. “Did Claude put you up to this?”

“No,” Felix protests, and he finally breaks the strange tension enough to reach out and put a hand on Sylvain’s shoulder. “Well. He found me and brought me back. But I am. I always have been.”

Sylvain’s head whips up. “What?” he demands. “You…”

“Didn’t you know?” Felix’s hand tightens on Sylvain’s shoulder. “You’re the one who knows about that.”

A shake of the head. A slight shrug. “You’re giving me way too much credit. I just know how to get a girl into bed. I don’t know about—love.”

“Why wouldn’t I be in love with you?” Felix demands impatiently.

“Because,” Sylvain frowns, a shutter coming down over his brown eyes. “Why would anyone?”  
Ah. Felix wants to kill Miklan all over again. He wants to kill Sylvain’s parents. He wants to ring the neck of every woman who threw herself at Sylvain, for his bloodline, for his parentage, for his crest.

“I love you,” he repeats stolidly. “I do. I always have.”

“Really?” Sylvain asks. “I mean…_really_?”

This is too many words, and if it goes on, Felix is sure to break the nascent cord of understanding that has sprung up between them. He shifts his hand from Sylvain’s shoulder to his elbow, draws him close, and kisses him clumsily. Sylvain stiffens for a moment, and then he kisses him back. He’s not clumsy at all, but he is desperate, one hand clutching in Felix’s shirt collar and pulling him closer. Felix can feel Sylvain’s heart racing beneath his chest, his injured arm trapped between them. He puts his arms around Sylvain, deepening the kiss.

This is home, he thinks. He thought he didn’t have one anymore, but this _is_ his home. Here. Safe, in his arms. And he almost threw it away.

He breaks the kiss, but only to start nipping at Sylvain’s neck, getting closer to the rush and beat of his pulse, hearing Sylvain’s desperate moan reverberating in his ears.

“Let me take you to bed,” Sylvain pants. “Right away. Right now. I need you.”

“Yes,” Felix responds immediately. “Yes.” 

As he lets Sylvain lead him into the tent, Felix glances up towards the sky. The sun glints white and gold on a figure hovering high above them, and though he doesn’t know if Claude can see it, he gives a grateful wave.

**Author's Note:**

> WHAT THE HELL FELIX WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO SYLVAIN? So I finished Verdant Wind and their paired ending is SO SAD I JUST HAD TO FIX IT. Claude is a good egg.


End file.
